Sweet Misery
by pinkstarsx
Summary: John and Tayla are nothing alike, and from the moment they meet, they can't stand one another. When certain situations force them to spend more time together, they grow close. Can two worlds really collide?
1. Empty Dreams

**Sweet Misery**

_Author's Note: I originally began writing this story about a year ago. I never continued it… I'm not sure why. As I went back over the story a few weeks ago, I made a few changes to the plot, and decided to rewrite it. Suggestions for characters and plot ideas are always welcome, and I'll try to fit them into the story somehow. Anyway, enjoy, and be sure to review._

_**Summary:** John Cena and Tayla Scott are nothing alike. He's the 'bad boy, don't-give-a-shit' type, but away from the spotlight he's different. Tayla is the 'over-achieving, prissy, spoiled rich girl', or so everyone seems to think. From the moment they meet, they don't like one another. Soon certain situations force them to spend more time together and they end up growing closer. Can two worlds really collide?_

_**Characters:** John Cena, OC (Tayla), Randy Orton, Dave Batista, Rey Mysterio, & more_

_**Rating:** This story is rated M for Mature, with language, strong sexual content, some minor substance abuse, and violence._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own WWE, nor am I affiliated with them. I don't own any of its characters mentioned in this story. Tayla is a figment of my imagination (more or less—although bits and pieces of her character are based on real people). John is going to be a bit younger than he is in real life for the sake of this story._

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**Chapter 1: Empty Dreams**

'_Honey, would you get that? I'm on the phone.' Her mother shouted from upstairs._

_Tayla walked into the front hall and undid the locks on the door, and then opened it. 'Hi, can I help you?'_

'_Is this the Scott residence?' A tall, stern-looking man questioned. He was accompanied by a shorter, chubbier gentleman who was wearing a badge. Squinting, she read "Sergeant" on it, and the realization that it was the police finally hit her._

'_Yes. What's going on?' The eight year old shifted the weight from one foot to another nervously. Had she done something wrong?_

'_I'd really prefer to talk to Mrs. Scott. Is she home?'_

_Tayla nodded and yelled upstairs for her mom. A few seconds later a young woman came running down the stairs. 'Tayla, I told you-' She stopped when she realized there were two police officers outside the door. She opened the door further and motioned for them to come inside._

'_Evening officer, what can I do for you?'_

_The officer nodded towards Tayla, proposing that she leave the room._

_The woman look worried. She turned to her daughter, 'Sweetheart, would you go watch TV?' The little girl obliged reluctantly, but decided to stay close to hear what was going on. She headed upstairs, but sat down on the top step where she was out of view._

'_What is it?' The woman's voice was much quieter._

'_Ma'am... there's no easy way to say this… there's been an accident.'_

'_What? What on earth are you talking about?'_

'_Is your husband's name Ethan Scott?'_

'_Yes…'_

'_Well, there was a horrible accident a couple of hours ago. Your husband's car was struck on the driver's side by another vehicle. Apparently the driver had been drinking and-'_

_The woman held up her hand, 'Wait a minute. Where's Ethan? Is he okay?'_

_The two men glanced at one another. After what seemed like minutes of nothing but dead silence, one of them finally spoke up, 'I'm sorry, miss. He's gone.'_

Tayla woke up startled in a cold sweat. She sat up in her bed and glanced around the darkness that had enclosed upon her bedroom. The dark scared her.

She threw the covers from her body and dropped her feet to the floor. The clock beside her bed read '3:42', which meant that she still had a couple of hours before she had to get ready for dance. Tayla was exhausted, but she rarely got a full night's sleep anymore, and she knew if she laid back down, she would be staring at the plaster on the ceiling until her alarm told her it was time to get in the shower.

She got up, and pushed her door open a crack, peering out. Good, her mother was sound asleep. She tiptoed into the hallway and headed downstairs. She found her guitar sitting on the sofa in the living room where she had left it hours ago. She sat down on an end of the leather seat and picked it up, setting it in her lap. As she was tuning and adjusting the cords, her mind wandered back to her dreams.

'Why'd you have to leave us, dad?' She thought to herself, 'If you were still here, mom wouldn't be the way she is.'

She struck a couple of cords and then continued to adjust them. The only time she had a few free minutes to play her guitar was late at night when her mother was asleep. From the minute she got up every day, to the minute she went to sleep every night, her mother had a strict schedule set up for her. Mostly, her schedule consisted of dance for several hours in the morning, college classes with her tutor, occasionally meeting with her talent manager, and then more dance.

She stayed up for the next hour or so playing around with her guitar and her lyrics, and then decided she had better get into bed before her mother woke up and found her out of bed. She wouldn't just be pissed about her being up that early and not getting enough of her 'beauty sleep,' she'd be even more pissed that she was up playing her guitar. She had never told Tayla why she hated it, but she imagined her mother felt she didn't have enough time to focus on all of her activities and her music.

Tayla placed her guitar on the top shelf in her walk-in closet, where she hoped it would be invisible to her mother if she ever happened to wander in there. She laid down on her bed, pulling the covers up around her.

Empty. Her bedroom felt so empty. Her _life_ felt so empty. She had a lot going for herself, dance… modeling… decent grades… hell, she even had every material item she could hope for. Still, she felt that a huge part of her life had been missing ever since her father passed away, and those things hardly helped to fill the void at all.


	2. Bad Day

_Author's Note: If anyone's confused in this chapter, Marc is Trademarc (John's cousin). The previous disclaimer applies. Please read and review._

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**Chapter 2: Bad Day**

"You're late, Miss Scott."

"I know. I'm so sorry Ms. Medina. I forgot that my clothes were in the wash, and then I couldn't find my ballet shoes. By the time-"

"That's enough. The only person whose time was wasted was your own. Now hurry and get changed so we can get started with today's warm-ups."

Tayla let out a sigh, and then scurried to change into her clothes for dance. Her instructor was a stern woman, and she was very disapproving whenever a student showed up late. She had been teaching Tayla for nearly fourteen years, yet she was still as cold towards her as she had been the day her mother enrolled her into her classes.

- - - - - - - -

"Jesus, the last place I want to be today is stuck at some art school with a bunch of haughty, rich bitches, but you know damn well opportunities like this don't come along every day." John gripped the empty beer can in his hand and crushed it into a tiny, flattened mess of metal.

He and his cousin were finishing up their lunch. "Besides, we probably won't have to talk to anyone. The producer said we could just check out the recording equipment and see what we think."

"Whatever, it's cool." Marc shrugged.

"Sweet. Let's get this shit over with." John tossed his beer can, aiming for the trash, but completely missed. He shrugged, and kept heading towards the parking lot to find his truck.

Marc rolled his eyes and chuckled, "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

- - - - - - - -

"No, NO!" Ms. Medina threw her arms up in frustration, firing a dirty look at Tayla. "You're not even trying."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not. Your balance is awful, and you're not bending your knees correctly."

"I'm just tired, that's all."

"Have you been sleeping as much as your mother told you to? You know you can't concentrate as well when you're tired."

Tayla bit her lip, "Yes… of course."

"Oh, I see. Well that's good." She continued making her rounds around the room to check on her other students. Most of the time Ms. Medina would teach Tayla individually, or with one other student, but on Thursdays she taught a larger group.

- - - - - - - -

John shoved the door to the building open nonchalantly and walked inside, with Marc close in tow. He glanced around, looking for a sign that would point them in the direction of the recording studio.

The two of them continued past an art room, and approached the dance studio.

"Dude, what the fuck did I tell you?" John muttered, pointing towards the dance class going on inside.

"Lower your voice, we're in a school," Marc hissed, peering into the room.

John shrugged. He started mimicking one of the dancers, trying to shape his body into a demi-plié, bending slightly with his knees pointed outwards, one leg in front and one leg behind it. Marc turned back towards John and nearly doubled over in laughter.

"You look like a moron, Cena."

Out of nowhere, a piece of rubber hit John square in the eye. The sting that followed was excruciating. "Mother fucker…" He brought his hand up and touched his eye, then winced.

A girl came running over, "Oh my god, are you okay? I'm so sorry! We use these things for stretching." She bent down to pick up the rubbery strip of material and held it up.

"Whatever. I bet you think everyone else should watch out for you, huh?" He glared at her, still holding his eye.

"What? 'You girls?' No—I—are you sure you're okay?"

"Just get away from me, okay?" He pushed her to the side.

"Wait—let me see." She grabbed his arm, pulling him to face her. When he still wouldn't take his hand away from his eye, she reached up and moved it away herself to get a closer look. She ran her finger along his eyelid gently, then along the cheekbone beneath his eye. It was turning red, and she was sure it was going to bruise.

As she pulled her fingertips away from his warm skin, their eyes met. The icy, steel blue of his eyes was so captivating that it made her heart flutter in her chest. She quickly looked away.

"I can get you some ice if you want." She said quietly.

"No, I'll be fine. You've done enough." John muttered sarcastically, and then backed away from her.

"Look, I told you it was an accident…"

"Yeah, you did. I bet spoiled, little rich girls like you can get away with a lot of shit, can't you?"

Tayla's face twisted in shock. Nobody had spoken to her like that in the longest time. Now she could feel the anger that was bottled up inside of her exploding. "You know what? Fuck that. FUCK YOU. You don't know me—stop saying shit like 'girls like you,' you cunt!"

Now John's mouth fell open. _'Fuck me; good girls do have mouths on them.' _His eyes turned dark, as if she had lit a fire inside of him, and his fists were balled up at his sides. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and then turned towards Marc who was staring at the both of them in shock, "Let's go." The two of them walked off down the hallway.

Tayla was so angry she felt like screaming. Before she thought about what she was doing she balled her fist up and hit the wall nearby as hard as she could (and luckily for her, she had a pretty weak arm, or she probably would have broken something). Tayla could felt a sharp, stinging pain along her four knuckles that made her want to scream. "Owwww, shit!" She brought her hand up and sucked lightly on her knuckles, trying to soothe the pain. _'That's definitely going to bruise.'_


End file.
